Poetry breathes

Poetry breathes

Poetry breathes, in pregnant pauses,
In the emotions evoked, feeling, it arouses,

Not just in the words,that it, make,
But in the nectar, that ,your burning thirst, slakes,

Not only in rhyme,meter,form or length thereof,
But that, which your heart recognizes, in love,

Poetry resides, not just in pages,
But in your heart's own knowledge, of the ages.

--shubha